Breathe
by Kaleidoscopic Panda Bear
Summary: He may always be angry, but that didn't mean he couldn't be calm. A paradox that may be, but Bruce Banner was full of those. And Tony Stark was determined to figure out as many of them as he possibly could. STANNER; Tony/Bruce.


He may always be angry, but that didn't mean he couldn't be calm. A paradox that may be, but Bruce Banner was full of those. And Tony Stark was determined to figure out as many of them as he possibly could.

He's already gotten a couple of them down, like how Bruce is happy to come back from being the Hulk, but he hates it, too, because it makes him feel raw. Raw and dirty and depressed and just tired. And Tony knows Bruce is a smart guy, a very smart guy, but when he has nightmares, the Doctor tends to try and not sleep. He'll do just about anything to stay awake for days on end, even going as far as to shock himself with low doses of electricity every few minutes.

Bruce is a smart guy. He knows being sleep deprived makes him snap and lose control easier. But he really hates nightmares. Tony doesn't blame him; he's had his fair share of bad dreams, still does from time to time, but he didn't torture himself over them and become a forced insomniac. He talked to someone about them. JARVIS, Pepper, even Bruce himself when he was listening in the lab.

But mostly, as interesting and as able to brag as Bruce was, the Doctor didn't like to talk about himself. In fact, he would do just about everything in his power to steer the conversation away from himself. Bruce would even, however limited, talk about the Hulk, if it meant not talking about himself. Tony didn't like this. And when a Stark didn't like something, a Stark would fix said something to the best of his ability. Needless to say, this caused some tension between the two scientists.

"So, Brucey-Boy," Tony started, shattering the content silence of the lab and making the man in question jump, which then pulled a sharp curse and a yelp of pain out of him. The sudden voice had startled Bruce, who had not slept in over seventy two hours, out of his concentration and made him slice his finger open. He sighed in frustration as he watched the blood from the alarmingly deep cut pool on the stainless steel counter below him.

'That might need stitches,' he mused darkly, the dejected feeling in his brain taking over. Tony's voice registered in his head again.

"…Sleeping habits, as of late? If you're having issues again, I can always figure out a solution with JARVIS. Brucey-Boy?" A confused, slightly hurt, but mostly angry look had settled onto Banner's features. He was still staring fixedly at the pooling blood.

"Bruce? Hey, Bruce! Earth to Banner!" Tony shouted, now reaching the other's side. Moving quickly, Bruce clapped his hand down over the puddle of blood so Tony couldn't see. For some reason, he didn't want him to know he was bleeding.

"No," was his only reply. Tony quirked an eyebrow, but Bruce didn't look at him.

"No to what? To sleeping well, or to finding a solution?" Bruce could feel the beginnings of the headache starting. His palm was sticky.

"Just…no. I'm okay, Tony." The billionaire clapped his companion on the shoulder tauntingly, saying, "Right…Sure you are, big guy. Anyway, JARVIS and I will look into a-" Tony was cut off by Bruce shoving him away, the palm that had covered the blood coming up to Banner's face, swiping down his right eye and covering that side with the red substance. It was a scary sight to see; Tony hadn't known Bruce was injured anywhere.

The blood came out of nowhere, as did the green tint to the normally hazel brown, calm eyes. His body was trembling and the injured hand was grasping the edge of the counter with a bone white grip, forcing the blood out of the sliced fingertip at a faster rate yet. Tony slowly put his hands up.

"I. Am. Fine," was ground out between clenched teeth. Bruce's muscles screamed under the pressure of trying to stay the right size. The Other Guy wanted out, but Bruce was fighting it as hard as he could. His control was slipping. With eyes clenched shut tight and breaths coming in what seemed to be either pained or pissed huffs, blood streaked down one side of his face, the Doctor didn't realize Tony was talking until two reassuring hands were pressed to his cheeks.

"Bruce. Look at me, Bruce." It took him a few seconds to open his eyes, but Bruce was met with the patient look that had spread over Tony's features. A particularly hard tremor wracked Bruce's body and he fell to his knees on the cold tile floor, hard enough to bruise. Tony followed him down, and neither noticed the door to the lab slide open.

The billionaire swiped the sleeve of his lab coat over Bruce's face, wiping away the blood. He kept one hand on the shaking man's cheek and rested one on the back of his neck, threading his fingers through the hair there and keeping Bruce grounded.

"You have to breathe. Deep breaths. Don't let him win." The voice was steady, patient, quiet. It crept into Bruce's conscious like an antidote, calming the Other Guy's rage, if only slightly. He still wanted out. Bruce's mouth opened in a silent scream of torment and agony; he doubted that he'd ever get used to how much the process hurt. He grasped widely at his hair and pulled hard, trying to alleviate the pain somewhat, but to no avail.

Tony gently pushed Bruce's head down so it was resting on his own shoulder, untangling his friend's fingers from his curly hair and keeping a tight hold on his wrists so he couldn't hurt himself. That was when Tony looked up to see Clint and Steve standing in the doorway, wide eyed and gaping silently, not knowing what to do. The Archer went to take a step forward, but Steve stopped him, holding him back. Another tremor racked through Bruce, and for a heartbreaking moment, Tony thought he had lost him. The silent scream turned into an audible one for a few seconds before getting cut off by a sob.

Tony moved Bruce's wrists and trapped them with one hand against his hip, moving the other hand to the back of his neck again in a reassuring gesture.

"You're going to be okay, Bruce, you just have to breathe. Focus on me, not him. You're doin' okay, Doc. Deep breaths. There you go." A small smile spread over Tony's face as he felt Bruce begin to respond. He took deep breath after deep, shuttering breath, and eventually the tremors from the Other Guy trying to escape stopped. Instead, it was replaced by Bruce's shoulders shaking from trying to suppress his sobs, failing all the while.

"It hurts…So much." Bruce's voice was broken, quiet. Rough from screaming and sobbing and not breathing. But Tony heard it all the same, and, not removing his hand from the back of his friend's neck, he said,

"I know, Doc. You just gotta sleep. When you wake up, everything will be okay."

Clint and Steve took the initiative and cautiously moved into the room, stopping a good five feet from the pair on the floor. Tony sighed, feeling Bruce's limp form rest against his and the other's breath fan out against his neck and collarbone. He smiled. Unconscious or not, at least Bruce was sleeping. Steve cleared his throat.

"Would you like help moving him, Mr. Stark?" Tony shook his head; he knew he could lift Bruce. He shuffled around a bit until he was able to pick the sleeping man up bridal style, manuevering him over to the beat up couch, hastily shoved into the far corner of the lab. _'For emergencies is right,' _he thought. He managed to get Bruce covered up with his own lab coat before going back to where his teammates still stood, patiently and silently waiting for an explanation.

When Tony simply went back to what he had been working on prior to the whole situation, Clint snorted in disbelief.

"Stark!" He exclaimed, still keeping his voice low enough as to not disturb their resting comrad. The billionaire simply spun in his seat and said, "Yes?" in a sing-song voice. Steve watched silently as the two bickered back and forth.

"We walk in on you talking Banner down from a freak-out, and then you pretend like nothing happened? What the fuck?" The Archer spread his hands wide in the gesture of anger. Tony just shrugged.

"It's happened before and it'll happen again. He just pushed himself too hard; not sleeping can do that to you, green rage monster or not." Finally, Steve spoke up.

"Alright. I suppose we'll be on our way then. Best not disturb the good doctor any more than he's disturbed himself." The Captain ushered Clint out of the lab, the door sliding shut behind them once more. Tony returned to his work, the silence becoming almost unbearable. Only when Bruce muttered something in his sleep did Tony break out of his reverie.

"JARVIS," he began, suddenly finding his voice weak, "Could you monitor his vitals and update me every half hour until he wakes up?" A high pitched beep sounded throughout the room before JARVIS came online and responded.

"As you wish, Mister. And I can assure you, Doctor is still breathing." A hint of definite humor had entered the robotic voice as the AI read off the current vitals to Tony. And even though Tony was overly concerned, it did reassure him to know that Bruce wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.


End file.
